Chapter Thirteen
Juliet
By the time I pull into the student parking lot, my whole body is thrumming. Every nerve ending, every molecule of my being is alive.
This is it.
My meet cute with Orion fucking Grayson.
It has to be perfect.
But first, I have to get through the stupid art class.
I spot his truck the second I turn onto campus, parked in the private lot, in his reserved space. My stomach tightens, my fingers flex against the wheel. That’s where he belongs. Where he waits. Where I’ll eventually slide into his passenger seat like I’ve always been there.
Tammy’s phone is silent.
Nothing from Orion about the tags.
Did he change his locks today? Did he hesitate before pocketing his tags, wondering who had been inside his home? Did he think about me?
I’ll find out next time I’m there.
I don’t see him as I make my way to class, but that’s okay. The anticipation is delicious.
The instructor is a nice older woman, long, flowy skirt, tank top, too many bracelets jingling with every movement. She has that whole hippie artist thing going on. She probably drinks herbal tea and doesn’t wear a bra.
Not really the type men notice.
We go over the basics, supplies, expectations, what we’ll be doing this semester. It’s fine.
But the whole time, my thoughts are elsewhere.
No one in the class is worth my attention. I can probably enroll Noah if he wants to join me. He’d be adorable, sitting next to me, painting something for me. But there are some questionable women on this campus, and the idea of them looking at him makes my jaw tighten.
It would distract me.
I can’t be distracted.
Not when I’m this close to Orion.
Finally, class lets out. I duck into the restroom, freshen up, make sure everything is perfect.
My soft curls are flawless. My glossed lips just the right shade of pink. My scent? Sweet, warm vanilla.
No man can resist vanilla.
I sling my pretty pink school bag, the one Noah got me, over my shoulder and step out into the dimming evening light.
Time to meet him.
I spot him instantly.
Orion Grayson.
My stomach clenches, my pulse pounds.
He moves like he owns this campus.
Like the pavement was laid for his boots to tread.
His uniform stretches tight over his muscles, broad shoulders, thick arms, strong, powerful thighs. His duty belt cinches at his waist, gun and radio strapped in place, useful, dominant, in control.
I hang back for just a second.
Just long enough to drink him in.
My fingers itch.
My mouth waters.
I need to touch him.
I let out a soft, breathy whimper, so quiet, no one hears.
No one except me.
Then, I move.
I close the space in seconds, my steps light, controlled, deliberate.
At the perfect moment, I grab his arm.
Oh.
Oh, Jesus Christ.
Heat. Strength. Power.
He’s solid under my grip, muscles taut, warm, real.
I nearly moan.
“Someone’s following me.” My voice is breathless, panicked, perfect. I grip his arm tighter, my eyes wide, pleading. “Please, help me.”
Orion reacts instantly.
His head snaps up, eyes scanning the shadows, posture shifting just slightly.
He doesn’t hesitate.
He tucks me behind him.
Oh.
Oh, that’s… fuck.
That protective gesture? The way he shields me like I belong there?
I want to sink my teeth into his spine.
And then he speaks.
“Stay here,” he orders, voice low, steady.
I nearly come on the spot.
Oh.
Oh, that is a fuck me hard voice.
Deep, rough, firm.
It doesn’t just reach me, it slips under my clothes, crawls over my skin, presses between my legs.
I place my hand on his waist before I can stop myself. Shit.
It’s instinct. Desperation. Greed.
“Please don’t leave me.” I press closer, soft and trembling, letting him feel my warmth, my need.
His body locks up for half a second.
Then, he glances down at me, frowning, assessing. “I don’t see anyone.”
Of course, he doesn’t.
But that’s not the point.
I look up at him, letting my lips part, letting my breath come a little too fast. Letting him see my fear.
“Can you just walk me to my car?” I ask.
Lure him in.
My god, he smells like something I want to lick.
His chest rises and falls, slow and measured. His eyes flicker over me once, twice. He nods.
“Yeah,” he mutters, exhaling. “C’mon.”
I follow him across campus and through the quiet lot, my pulse pounding at the sheer size of him, the warmth rolling off his body, the way his shoulders shift as he moves.
Every step is one inch closer to him being mine.
When we reach my car, I unlock it and toss my bag inside without looking, because why the hell would I look away from him?
Orion.
Standing so close.
So big.
So solid.
His presence hums in the air between us, thick, heavy, warm.
I flick my gaze to his name tag, dragging my lip between my teeth. “Thank you, Grayson.”
He doesn’t immediately respond. His eyes sweep over me, slow and deliberate, and oh, fuck, I feel it everywhere.
“Orion,” he corrects.
Oh.
Oh, God.
I nearly sway.
I almost say his name back to him, just to taste it, just to let it roll off my tongue.
Instead, I exhale, keeping my voice light, sweet, breathless.
“Thank you, Orion.”
His name feels dangerous in my mouth.
Like something that shouldn’t be spoken unless it’s in a whisper against his throat.
“I’m Juliet.”
His expression doesn’t change much, still calm, still steady, but his eyes linger.
He’s looking at me. Really looking.
And God, I want to put my hands on his waist, slide my fingers under his shirt, feel the ridges of his stomach, the flex of muscle, the hardness beneath the soft cotton of his uniform.
“Are you here every weeknight?” I ask, even though I already know.
“I am,” he says, voice deep, smooth, too fucking perfect.
“Oh, good.” I sigh, tilting my head, leaning just a little closer. Close enough that I can almost feel the heat of his skin.
He doesn’t lean back.
My stomach tightens.
“That was horrifying,” I add, pressing my palm flat against my chest, like I’m still recovering.
He doesn’t look convinced.
“There are just so many weirdos these days,” I murmur, shaking my head.
I don’t get in the car.
I don’t want to.
I want to drag this out, want to watch him, want to make him keep looking at me.
“You look familiar,” I say instead, tilting my chin, staring straight into his eyes.
So deep. So dark.
So focused on me.
He hesitates. Just for a second. “Saw you at the gym,” he says.
Oh.
Oh, fuck me.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
I cock my head, feigning surprise, biting back the satisfaction curling through me like a slow, thick heat.
“Oh, the yoga place?” I say, widening my eyes slightly, pretending to just be making the connection.
His lips twitch. Just barely.
But it’s there.
One corner of his mouth, lifting just enough to make me want to sink my teeth into it.
I ache.
For a second, I can’t move.
I just stand there, drenched in his presence, breathing him in, skin prickling from the weight of his gaze.
I have to leave.
Not because I want to.
Because if I don’t, I will do something reckless.
“Well,” I murmur, dragging my fingers along the edge of my car door, slow, teasing, just enough to let him watch. “I’ll look for you next time I’m there.”
Then, before I can lose my fucking mind, I slide into my car.
His eyes stay on me.
Watching.
Assessing.
And just as I pull the door shut, just as I grip the wheel, trying to breathe.
He smirks.
Oh.
Oh, Orion.
You have no idea what you’ve just done.
I circle the block, parking in a shadowed spot where I can watch him without being seen.
Orion moves back to his post near the entrance, arms crossed over his broad chest, gaze sweeping over the campus like a king surveying his territory.
He doesn’t pay attention to the girls leaving. Not a single glance. Not a single lingering look.
Because he’s thinking about me.
My touch on his arm. The way my fingers gripped him, how I tucked myself against him, the way I whispered please, help me in my soft, desperate voice.
I bet he goes home and touches himself.
The thought slams into me, a hot, dizzying thrill curling through my belly.
I need to know.
I wait until his shift ends, until he strides to his truck, steady, powerful, that body.
His house is dark when he pulls up.
I watch as he climbs out of his truck, takeout bags in hand. I bet there’s something sweet in there too. I know he has a sweet tooth.
God, I can’t wait to bake for him.
Yes. Yes, that’s it. That’s how I lock this down.
When I get home, I’ll bake. Cupcakes. A mix of everything to take to the gym.
Chocolate. Vanilla. Strawberry.
And red velvet.
Yes. He’ll love that.
I need to know his favorite.
The lights flick on inside, but his curtains stay closed.
A small irritation pricks at me.
I’m about to pull away when she pulls in.
I freeze.
Tammy.
What the actual fuck.
I warned her.
My nails dig into the steering wheel as she flounces out of her car, her little too-tight jeans hugging an ass Orion has already tossed aside.
She doesn’t get to come back.
But he lets her in.
My vision blurs.
My pulse pounds in my skull.
This isn’t happening.
This is not happening.
I force myself to breathe, to count backward from ten, to unclench my fingers before I crush the steering wheel in my grip.
Fine.
Fine.
She wants to play this game?
I leave, but not to go home.
Home is for good girls. Sweet girls. Patient girls.
But right now?
I am not feeling patient. Nor sweet.
So I go to her place instead.
The street is quiet.
A shitty neighborhood, barely lit, the kind where people mind their own business, where you can scream and the only thing your neighbor will do is turn up the TV.
I pick the lock in seconds.
She didn’t even change it after I broke in the first time.
Sloppy.
Lazy.
She doesn’t deserve Orion.
The door swings open, and I slip inside.
It smells like cheap perfume and stale coffee. Just like before, clothes litter the floor, the sink is full of dishes, and there’s a half-eaten plate of food on the counter.
Disgusting.
Orion lived here? He touched this?
I move through slower than the first time.
She’s still at his house, probably whining, probably begging for another chance.
She won’t get one.
I’ll make sure of that.
I make my way to the bathroom, scan the counter.
Makeup. Hair ties. Lipsticks.
I pluck one up, red, slutty, cheap. Probably the same one I used last time.
I uncap it, let the waxy scent fill the air.
Then, I turn to the mirror.
And I write.
LAST WARNING.
STAY AWAY FROM ORION.
HE’S MINE.
I step back, tilting my head, admiring my work. I add the little heart again.
The red pops against the glass, bold, smeared slightly from where my fingers pressed too hard.
I picture her coming in to see it, that little squeak of fear, the way her heart will slam against her ribs.
I picture her running back to Orion.
I picture him rolling his eyes, already so done with her.
Perfect.
But… something’s missing.
I glance down at the lipstick in my hand.
Tilt my head.
Then, I press the tip against my lips, dragging a slow, thick smear across my mouth.
Red.
Bold.
Too much.
It’s not me.
It’s not soft, not delicate, not the kind of color Orion’s woman should wear.
I sneer, wiping it away with the back of my hand, leaving a smudge of red across my skin.
Tammy thinks she’s sexy. She thinks she’s edgy.
She’s not.
She’s desperate.
And Orion doesn’t need a desperate woman.
He needs a soft woman. A sweet woman.
A woman who takes care of him.
I cap the lipstick, set it back where I found it.
Then, before I leave, I go back to her bedroom, grab one of her cheap little bras from the laundry basket, and cut it in half.
Just because I can.
Just because it makes me feel better.
I make one last stop in the kitchen and open both the freezer and fridge doors.
And then, I slip out the way I came.
I have cupcakes to bake.